K2: Seme Handbook
by lizoftheinfinite
Summary: Based off the "Seme Handbook" rules by Dangerous Pleasure scanlations group. A series of oneshots in which Kenny makes a terrible seme. M for some sexual content, and swearing.


**If you can't make your uke come just by licking his ass… you suck in bed.**

"Dude."

"Mm?"

"This is boring."

Kenny looks up from his . . . er . . .activities. Kyle's lying on his stomach, glaring at him.

"What?"

"You've been doing that for like five minutes. Seriously. Are you going to fuck me, or what?"

"But I thought -" Kenny chews his lip.

It's the first time he's ever been with a guy. He's more than a little nervous.

"Does that work on girls?"

"Er . . .no?"

"Does that work on yourself?"

"No!"

"Then why the hell do you think it would work on me?"

"Er . . . "

"Dude, you suck in bed. I don't see how you've had so many girlfriends."

"I do not!" And so Kenny proceeds to show him that, no, he does not suck in bed. Well, not in the way Kyle intended, at least.

**The number of dildos that any average seme owns (for his uke) would put any sex shop to shame.**

"Kenny!" Kyle yells, throwing the door open. "I'm horny!"

"Dude, not so loud!" Kenny pulls his hood back over his head. "My sister's home."

"She's got those gigantic headphones, doesn't she? Anyway, all my finals are over, I've caught up sleep after my week-long cramming session with Wendy, I don't even care any more whether or not I pass all my classes, and I want sex. Now."

Kenny looks up from his comic book. "But - but -"

"Oh, god, you're reading Wonderwoman comics again. Stop it. Stop it immediately. I want sex."

Kenny holds up the comic book. "But - but - her boobs-"

"I am your gay-ass boyfriend waiting for sex. You are not allowed to think about boobs."

"But they're _boobs_," Kenny points out.

"Of course. That explains everything." Kyle sits at the kitchen table across from him and rests his head on the table. "I want sex."

"Boobs."

Kyle sighs. "Dude, you tried to jump my bones at least once an hour during finals week. And now that I'm literally begging you to fuck me, you won't put out?"

"But . . . boobs . . . "

A smirk forms on his lips. "Allow me to help you forget . . . " he purrs out. He reaches across the table, grabs Kenny by the collar of his parka, and drags the other boy towards him. They lock lips for several minutes, the make-out session broken only by Kyle sliding across the table to gain better access to Kenny's neck.

"Sorry . . . dude . . . we can't . . ." Kenny gasps out. "I can't have sex with you while I'm in the same house as my sister - "

"So we'll go to my place-"

"My mom's paying me to watch her-"

"Since when do your parents care?"

"Since it became unfortunate for me to care. Universe hates me, remember?"

"Fuck." Kyle pulls away and sits back in his seat. "Well, then do you have any dildos?"

Kenny's eyes widen. "Dude-"

Kyle wears that smirk Kenny loves, the smirk that belongs in his bedroom and not in the middle of the kitchen. Although against the counter-

"I have to deal with this little problem somehow, you know-" He gestures towards his pants.

"Ah . . . sorry . . . dirt poor . . ."

Kyle sighs. "Well, then. I could stay and socialize, but since I just came over for sex, I don't really feel like it." He stands up and walks out the door.

"Wait - Kyle - no-! I don't think my parents will mind if I just step out for a few minutes- " Kenny runs out the door and is promptly hit by lightning.

**The car you own is a BMW, Mercedes, Porche, or any other extra expensive make. Also, a seme's car will defy the laws of physics by being larger inside than on the outside to allow for comfortable uke-smexing. **

They're on the third date, to a pizza parlor. And they're walking.

It's two miles to the pizza parlor.

It starts out decently enough. Kyle jokes about all the calories they're burning, how much they'll have to eat. Kenny teases him about what he'll have to "eat". Dirty-talking, flirting, screwing around. They even hold hands. Briefly. Then they decide they feel stupid, let go, and reduce themselves to throwing their arms around each other.

Kyle trips after a mile of walking and rolls into the bushes. Kenny helps him dig himself out. He's laughing at first, but when he realizes Kyle doesn't find it nearly as funny, he shuts up.

"I've got prickers in me. I look like a wreck now. Shut up. Stop laughing."

"I'm not!" he protests, trailing down the street after him.

"You're smiling."

"I am not!" He is.

Kyle looks fine. Perfectly fine. Maybe there's a smudge of dirt on his chin, maybe his favorite jeans have a rip in them, but he still looks fine.

"This is stupid," he mumbles.

Kenny catches up to him and twists his fingers with Kyle's, even though they still think hand-holding is childish.

"S'not."

"Why are we walking anyways? I have a car. I have a goddamn car. But noooo, you didn't want to be driven by me because I have to pay for dinner, goddamn it, why are you so goddamn proud-"

"Hey," Kenny says, feeling kind of slighted. "I'm not proud. For twenty bucks I ate-"

"No. We're not talking about that. Ever."

"Agreed." It goes on his mental list of things never to talk about.

"Why don't you have a car?"

Kenny sighs and rubs his temple with his free hand. "When you signed up to date me, you signed up to date the poor kid who always dies," he reminds him.

"I know." Kyle says. And he grins. He reaches out to ruffle Kenny's hair. Kenny ducks his head into Kyle's hand.

"You're getting a job," he reminds him. Kenny groans.

**Regardless of what kind of seme you are, you love to talk dirty during sex.**

"Oh, god," Kyle gasps out. "Do that again."

Kenny's hunched over him, sweating. Kyle's stomach is shoved up against the brick alley wall. They were halfway home from school when Kyle decided he needed to fuck right then and right there.

Since it's South Park, it's about fifty degrees below zero outside.

"Ah - Kenny - Ah -"

"Mmmph mmph mphhhh," Kenny mutters in his ear, which makes Kyle groan.

"Mmmpph mmmphh -" he teases.

"Yeah . . . yes I am . . . I am . . . _I am _. . ." Kyle groans.

"Mmmpph mmmph mmmph -"

**Semes don't eat cake. Ever.**

"Kyle . . . please . . . "

Kenny pulls back from the cake in front of him. "What was that? Kenny McCormick lowering himself for food? What's this?"

"I haven't eaten since yesterday," Kenny mutters.

They're sitting in the cafeteria. Stan and Wendy are locking lips next to Kyle, so they're doing their best to ignore the couple and focus on their favorite lunch time activities. Namely, Kyle torturing Kenny with the contents of his lunch.

"Please," Kenny pleads. "Please. Can I have some? Please?"

"Mmmmmmm," Kyle licks his fork clean. "I dunno, Ken, it tastes pretty good." He digs his fork into the cake and brings it to his lips for another bite.

Kenny lunges across the table and closes his lips around the fork. He pulls back, swallowing hard, his stomach screaming from the bliss.

Kyle smirks.

"What?" Kenny demands, licking his lips.

"Tops never get to eat cake. Therefore, you're bottoming tonight."

"What? Wait, what? No! I take it back!" He starts to try and throw up his cake, but his stomach is not going to let it go that easily.

**Semes will hardly ever have sex completely naked. That's an uke thing.**

"Ken . . . " Kyle gasps out. His head is tilted back in the mattress.

"Mmmpph?" Kenny murmurs. He's busy having far too much with with Kyle's . . . er . . . lower half.

"I think you should know that . . . " Kyle locks gazes with him. "I love you."

Kenny stops what he's doing and stares at him.

"Mmpphhh mmppph?"

"Yeah. For real. I - I love you."

"Mmmpph . . . mmmphh mmhhpph mmmph mmmmphh, mmphhh mmpphh mmmpphhhh."

"Kenny? Take off the damn hood so our readers know what you're saying."

**Rape= Love. The more you love your uke, the more right you have to rape him.**

"Arghh . . . note to self . . . my mom is crazy."

"I could have told you that a long time ago," Kenny murmurs into his ear. Kyle slings his backpack onto the floor of Kenny's bedroom and flops down onto his bed.

"I had no idea coming about would be so hard. Seriously. How did she scream so much?"

"I think if I hadn't tried to kiss you, it probably would have been easier." Kenny lies down next to him and buries his face into the pillow.

"I don't know how I'm going to go home tomorrow," Kyle says softly. He meets Kenny's gaze. "Do you think your parents will mind if I stay here tonight?"

Kenny snorts. "My parents only care if it will end up getting me killed one way or another. Let's have sex awesome enough for me to die mid-orgasm." He starts to tickle him.

"Ugh, not tonight, dude." Kyle pushes him away with a yawn. "I can't get my mom's face out of my head. Total boner killer."

"Ah, come on," Kenny teases.

"No."

He can't really argue with that, so he curls up next to him and wraps his arms around him. They both start to drift off.

"No sex? Really?" he whispers into Kyle's ear.

"Dude. Just. Go. To. Sleep."

Goddamn it.

**The cure for rape= more rape. If another seme kissed, touched, or looked at your uke, get rid of his mark by replacing it with your own.**

Kenny follows Kyle into the bathroom. His knuckles still tingle from where he punched Craig. He watches as Kyle splashes water onto his face.

"You okay?" he mumbles out through his hood.

"Yeah. Fine. Just . . . wasn't expecting that. I'm okay."

"S'kay to be a little freaked out, you know. Seeing as he made you kiss him for almost a min-"

"Shut up!" Kyle turns on him, glaring. Water dribbles down his cheek. "I don't want to think about it. Just get out!"

They've been together for way too long for Kenny to listen to what Kyle says all the time. Instead he saunters over to him and sits on the counter next to him. "Craig's an asshole."

"He is," Kyle agrees. He looks away from Kenny.

"Hey," Kenny says softly. "It's not your fault. You didn't wanna kiss him. S'not your fault."

"I know." He wipes his face with the sleeve of his orange sweatshirt. "But . . . I still feel . . . gross . . ." He looks up at Kenny finally. "Uh, can you kiss me?"

Kenny pulls off his hood and is more than happy to oblige.

**Smexing your uke with his glasses is the ultimate goal. If the uke takes off his glasses before/while you smex him… you have failed.**

"Dear God . . . those are so hot . . ." Kenny breathes into Kyle's ear as he wraps his arms around his shoulders.

"Dude, I'm studying." Kyle starts to push him off.

"Sure you wouldn't want to take a break?"

Kyle gets that evil gleam in his eye. He stands from his chair and turns around. They have a lovely little make out session, which seems to always happen when they spend more than thirty seconds in the same room. As they head towards Kyle's bed, Kyle sheds his reading glasses.

"Nooooooooooooooooooo-" Kenny moans. "They're so hot."

"Do you want me to go down on you or not? Cuz I'm not doing it with my glasses on, not after you got everything on them last time."

Kenny promptly shuts up.

**You can't afford to smex your uke with your glasses on because if that happens, you can't be sure if the uke loves you or the glasses.**

"Dear God . . . those are so hot . . . " Kyle breathes into Kenny's ears as he wraps his arms around his shoulders.

"Why'd you put your glasses on me?" Kenny squints at the wall in front of him, which has stopped looking like a wall and looks more like a mass of fuzz.

"Cuz they're hot."

"I can't see anything."

"Just shut up and wear them."

"You only love me for the glasses."

"True."

Kenny dies a little bit inside. He revives when Kyle shows him exactly how much he loves the glasses.

**Never let you uke do any work! It's the uke's job to lie on the bed, it's YOUR job to make him feel good at night. (If your uke hasn't come at least five times, you're doing it wrong).**

"Ahhhh . . . dude . . . " Kyle's head is tipped back. His body is soaked with sweat. "How're you . . . still . . . moving . . .?"

Kenny grins. "I'm just that awesome," he explains, before dipping back down.

"Grahhh . . . you must be hard . . . let me blow you . . . "

"Nuh-uh. You're the one who got a perfect score on the AP US Lit. final. Therefore, you are going to orgasm at least five times."

"Fuck." Kyle collapses back against the pillow. "Fuck. Yes. Keep going."

Unfortunately, Kenny dies from overworking himself later that night. Whilst in the middle of giving head. Kyle is not pleased.

**Everybody is out to rape your uke. You've got to protect his chastity by guarding him day and night!**

When Kyles comes to school wearing his extra-sexy-tight-jeans-of-doom, Kenny knows he has a problem.

"Dude!" Kenny grabs him and drags him into the bathroom. "I told you not to wear those to school!"

"Why not? I look hot."

"Everyone's going to be staring at your ass!"

"What, Ken, think you can't handle a li'l competition?" he teases. "Don't worry, dude, seriously. I'll never go home with anyone but you."

"What if someone tries to make you?" he hisses.

He takes Kyle's What-The-Fuck expression and confirmation.

"I mean, seriously, think about it. Cartman's always been trying to get in your pants. Don't deny it. Stan, too. Both of them have so much more subtext in canon than me. I mean, I love you so much it's ridiculous, but I have to admit we're basically a crack pairing. So, like, what if Cartman sees you in those damn fine pants and -"

Kyle pats him on the shoulder. "Dude. Stan and Cartman are both straight. I need to get to class and you need to take a chill pill."

"NO THEY'RE NOT! NO ONE IN SOUTH PARK IS STRAIGHT! NO ONE! NO ONNNNNNNNEEEEEE!" Kenny screams after Kyle as his Jew saunters off.

**SAS-Semes Always Swallow. Spitting out semen is for wussies.**

"Blegghh! Blarrgghhh! Blaaaaah!" Kenny jumps up, wiping at his mouth. He glowers at Kyle. "Dude, you said you wouldn't do that any more!"

"Not my fault you give such an awesome BJ." Kyle smirks at him.

"You - you came in my mouth! Blarrgghhh!" Kenny runs off to find a sink.

**You don't have to think to hard for the perfect birthday present for your uke- just do him eight times in a row. On the other hand, the only acceptable present for you is your uke wearing an apron and nothing else.**

"Mmmm . . . this is nice . . ." Kyle murmurs into Kenny's mouth.

They're having "desert" after a perfectly romantic dinner. Perfectly romantic dinner meaning McDonald's French Fries, straight off the dollar menu. Desert meaning fucking at Kenny's house, in case the quotation marks were too subtle.

"I'm really sorry I couldn't get you that calculator you had on your list," Kenny mumbles as Kyle wraps his legs around his hips.

"Dude, my parents got me that calculator." Kyle's mouth starts to work down Kenny's collarbone. "But no one else can give me this."

"Stan could."

"Stan's straight."

"No, he's not!"

They've had this debate before. Kyle's back presses against the wall. They look at each other for a few seconds. Then Kyle reaches out and strokes his fingers through Kenny's shaggy blond hair.

"Yeah," Kyle murmurs, "but I never want to be with anyone else."

**It's perfectly normal to be able to pin a grown man to the wall only using one hand to grip his wrists.**

"Kyle, Kyle, Kyle!" Kenny calls as he runs through their apartment. "You've been a very bad boy!"

Kyle's giggling so much that by time Kenny finds him outside their bedroom, he's doubled up on the floor and absolutely helpless. Kenny pins him against the wall using only one hand to grip his wrists. Kyle tries to struggle free, and his eyes widen when he realize he can't.

"Dude. How are you doing that?"

"I have seme powers," Kenny points out. "Now. Punishment time."

"Fuck."

"Yup."

"Sweet."

**A seme must have different colored hair to his uke.**

Kenny stares at himself in the mirror with horror as Kyle's revenge becomes apparent. He can't shut his mouth, can't tear his gaze away from the reflective glass, no matter how hard he tries.

"So, Ken," Kyle calls from outside the bathroom. "Do gingers really have no souls?"

"YOU DIED MY HAIR RED?" Kenny shoves the bathroom door open, and Kyle jerks back to avoid being whacked. "I WAS SO PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL AND YOU PUT RED HAIR DYE IN MY SHAMPOO?"

He lets out a scream and chases Kyle through the house. He catches him before Kyle can make it out the door, pushes him down on the couch, and starts to punish him with kisses. The towel around his waist starts to slip out.

"Graaaahh."

Kenny looks up from his attack to find their eldest adopted daughter in the kitchen, munching on her bowl of cereal. She pretends to gag on her spoonful.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Kyle says, rolling his eyes at Kenny. "It's not my fault your dad is such a whiny little bitch about his hair."

"It's not my fault your dad is so damn impulsive and can't get over the fact that he's a soulless bastard."

"But I'm your soulless bastard." Kyle plants a quick peck on Kenny's lips.

"Bleeggh. I'm going to school. Lovebirds, save it for later when you can't scar impressionable young minds." She scuffs her sneakers on, slides her backpack over her shoulder, and heads out the door.

"Kenny?" Kyle says, smirking up at him.

"Hmmm?"

"I think you're an awesome redhead."

"Thanks," Kenny says. He bends down and gives him a long, slow kiss.

Unfortunately, they discover about half an hour later that Kenny is deathly allergic to the type of hair dye Kyle used.


End file.
